Ashes of Betrayal
by russianwinter013
Summary: This is my territory. It always has been, and it will never change. I have been excessively lenient while working with the mortal powerhouse, allowing their disgusting human stench to permeate the veil. So why does this particular group, out of all I have worked with, bother me so? They have been reckless enough to antagonize me…and they will not survive my wrath.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! Here is my first White Collar fanfiction, _Ashes of Betrayal!_**

 **Title: Ashes of Betrayal.**

 **Rating: M.**

 **Genre: Horror, Supernatural, Suspense, Crime, Tragedy, Angst**

 **Summary:** _This is my territory. It always has been, and it will never change. I have been excessively lenient while working with the mortal powerhouse, allowing their disgusting human stench to permeate the veil I work so hard to preserve. So why does this particular group, out of all the ones I have worked with, bother me so? They have been reckless enough to antagonize me…and they will not survive my wrath._

 **Warnings:** _There will be gore and a lot of dark moments. Not for the easily nauseated or disturbed. Also, this is set in an AU starting from S3E6 (Scott Free). If you have not seen up to or past that episode, I advise you not to read this, as I will be incorporating scenes from that episode and the following into this story (even though this is an Alternate Universe, I do not believe people really like spoilers...unless you are hopelessly desperate)._

 **Author Notes:** _Nothing really else to say except that I hope this story will be liked!_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 _The human heart is the source of all power...so what happens when the human heart fails? Power is only a part of infinity in the making, and the only thing that can affect its outcome is the conscience a mere mortal possesses, an extension of the force the heart possesses. Some choose to eradicate their conscience while others choose to embrace it. But what can a conscience, or even a heart for that matter, truly provide for any being? They present nothing but lies wrapped in emotions of ill intention. They will betray you without a second thought. So, considering this, we have chosen to wipe all consciences and emotionally poisoned hearts from existence, supported by the god of Death and Chaos himself. After all...death is merely corrupt power, is it not?_

* * *

 _He was stranded in the dark abyss with nowhere to go. Everything was almost unbearably crowded around him, and the long and thick fingers of deception and disgust were pressing in against his sweat soaked yet chilled skin._

A shudder ran through the slim body, and hands clenched into fists as he made his way down the damp cobblestone sidewalk. Senses flared as muscles tensed and strained beneath cool and flawless skin, hinting at the idea that someone was following or watching him. Scowling, the man stopped mid-step as icy eyes narrowed and burned in barely veiled agitation. No, no, no...there would be _no_ interruptions today...

 _Their jeers and hisses were oh so loud and oh so clear, even as he was pelted relentlessly with handfuls of rotten food and even the contents of waste containers. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to break free of his restraints and tear into their throats, ripping them all apart like the pathetic flesh creatures they all were...mere insects in the shadowed wake of the great universe..._

Icy droplets of rain poured from the sky, immediately lowering the body temperature of the lone man standing in the middle of the walkway. Deceptive hands possessing immense strength were clenched into fists, the tendons, veins, and muscles standing out clearly behind the pale skin. Unruly dark hair hung in long and silky strands over a flawless face, and full lips were the only visible feature on the veiled face.

 _A sharp object rammed into his shoulder, sinking into the scarred flesh with a startling ease to scrape against the rigid diamond bone. He remained impassive, even as the dark river of blood poured out to darken the tattered fabrics of his shirt and cloak. The warmth of the bodily fluid was enough to raise the temperature of his arm the slightest amount, the dark crimson liquid scalding against the ice of his skin._

 _A faint chuckle escaped his throat, and the noise was enough to make his captors halt, weapons aimed at the beast that dare disguise itself as a human. A ravenous hiss came from behind clenched razor teeth, and the spearhead that was sunken deep into his shoulder scraped away the surface of the bone. But oh, the pain was so welcome, even after all that had happened...it was sweet, sweet relief, and oh so satisfying._

 _Cold and sadistic, they called him. A complete masochist and sadist, one that was feared by many. After all, it was why he was being lead to the block of the executioner, was it not?_

 _The laugh that erupted from his dry and cracked throat was enough to still the hearts of all of those surrounding him._

A torrent of rain was now unleashing its wrath upon the defenseless world beneath it, graciously ignoring the cries and pleas of the vulnerable land beneath it as it was stabbed repeatedly in its exposed limbs to no doubt incapacitate it before the thought of rebellion crossed its mind. The minuscule daggers of ice tore their way through his skin, chilling the stilled blood hidden in deceitful veins and halting any movement that the pale bone would make.

 _The massive crowd of men and women all froze as the sound reverberated throughout the area. Panic and fear could not help but arise. Thoughts on what they would do and what was going to happen crossed their minds. Fighting would result in a brutal death. but doing nothing would result in eternal pain._

 _Dark blood poured from the gaping wound and what remained of the pale shoulder. Streams of the scalding liquid trailed against the ground, even as slim and long fingers dug relentlessly into the heated stone, futilely attempting to halt the large men dragging the smaller to the hangman who stood waiting like a dark sentry of the corrupt king he served._

A deep drone filled the air, disrupting the once calm and quiet peace that had once ruled over the land. The grave rumble was originating from deep within the chest of the lone man, filled with a grim belief that a dark promise given long ago would not be forgotten.

 _Their overwhelming scents filled the air...oh so sweet...oh so tempting...but no. He could not give into the urges just yet. He had to wait, just wait, a little while longer. Everything was going according to plan...they would not prevail this time..._

 _Idiotic humans..._

Lips curled back in an infuriated hiss, and gleaming white teeth reflected the pallid light of the moon watching the world like a worrisome mother. The ache of deceit and betrayal tore through him, a form of welcome pain that entered through arms that were held wide open in a cold guarantee.

 _The fire roared around him, its venomous tongues raking over his colorless skin in an effort to scar the once protective flesh. Every eye, from cobalt to hazel to amber to emerald, watched and sought after his every move, as if he were going to turn on them in an instant._

 _Oh, they had no idea how right they were..._

Chilling and heart-stopping, the laugh that escaped the man was enough to break even the coldest of beings.

Out of the corner of his peripheral vision, a motion caught his wandering attention.

There were people following him.

With rage boiling and festering in his heart, he remained motionless. How _dare_ they think they would be able to catch him by surprise?

 ** _Master..._**

 _The air, once filled with the nauseating scents of the brackish perspiration and tears and vile spittle from the roaring crowd, almost immediately dropped in temperature. Broad slices of delicious terror and caution fell all around the beast being led to the execution site, and such horrid emotions only increased in influential power as his insane laughter echoed with a chilling accuracy throughout the now silent town._

 ** _Master...we have come for you._**

 _Darkness roared in triumph as it was finally allowed to descend on the abhorrent world beneath it, its huge and icy tendrils of diamond clawing through the flesh-like exterior to expose all of the wretched organs to the omniscient universe around it..._

The lone man ceased all movement, the darkness surrounding him writhing in thinly veiled desire. The time was almost near...

A faint rumble pierced the thick veil of silence, steadily moving towards the single being standing drenched in the rain that beat him relentlessly. Ice stung his nearly colorless skin, chilling the flawless flesh and bone.

A cold snarl curled back his lips, and pure white teeth flashed in the dim light of the moon high above him.

 _In._

 _Out._

 _Calm..._

 _Relax..._

"You have been following me."

A figure appeared from the shadows, tall and lithe with flowing silver hair and a dark crimson glare. Hoarse and bone-chilling laughter escaped the strange being as it tilted its head, a playful and infuriating grin curling back scarred lips. "Only for the good of the cause."

Water dripped in streams from the slim frame of the first man. "Enough with the impediments." Dark and thick hair fell over a pale forehead, waving in the ice-coated wind. "How long?"

The being made a low and hissing noise, an elongated and forked tongue flicking out to swipe over long teeth. "The Order believes it will merely be a bit longer of a wait. There have been rumors of spies and—"

Before the being could continue, an icy and immovable hand was clasped around his throat, restricting unnecessary air flow.

The monster loomed over him, once cool blue eyes now blazing a chilling mixture of crimson and gold. Long teeth were bared in a feral snarl as the cloak of darkness surrounding him roared to voice the fury of its master; thick and black tendrils began to slither their way beneath the informant's skin, slipping past the muscle and piercing the bone.

The scream that tore through the night was enough to make the beast moan in pleasure.

 _ **Master...we are waiting...**_

 _The demented cry that rang throughout the town made all become immobile, almost immediately. Sweat and filth poured off of the wary bystanders, making the foul stench in the air strengthen and nearly overwhelm the beast sentenced to death. Perfect white teeth lengthened in growing agitation and hunger, and he shifted, feeling the guards and escorts tense around him._

 _One fool was brave enough to spear him through the shoulder once more._

 _The sound of tearing flesh and the scent of boiling blood filled the air. Crimson liquid flew with a frenzied fervor and in a flash, the beast was looming over everything and everyone, madness clear in the dark depths of its gaze as the blood poured like an incessant river behind him._

 _His demonic roar was enough to make the town descend into a crazed frenzy._

Tearing himself from his wandering thoughts, he glared down at his subordinate. "There will be no spies. Should I hear of anything else pertaining to the matter, I will personally tear out the hearts of each and every one not capable of flushing out a number of scoundrels. Do you understand?" The telltale creaking of warping bone filled the air as the grip around the messenger's throat began to tighten.

The silver-haired man nodded weakly. "Y-yes. I understand, master."

A low growl rumbled throughout the pale man's chest. "Excellent." Straightening suddenly, he released the other, leaning against the icy stone wall of the building behind them as he slipped his clawed hands deep into the pockets of his all-concealing cloak. "Inform the Rivaille Clan to begin their movements. Should any of them be late, I will personally tear them to shreds." Crimson eyes burned as they locked onto those of the silver-haired man. "Everything must go according to plan, and not even the slightest mistake can be made."

Lightning flashed, revealing a handsome face with ice blue eyes and an arrogant smirk that curled back his full lips. Moaning and sanguinary wind lapped at the edges of his long and dark cloak, and the moonlight illuminated the sleek and expensive suit that the man was wearing, as well as the simple yet elegant Forzieri tie.

"The hunt has begun."

* * *

 _The world is such a dreadful place, is it not? Always gathering hopes and dreams in its deceitfully soft hands...if only to crush them mercilessly as their agonized screams beat at worn ears and their precious lifeblood poured through clenched fingers. No one can trust the world, and its horrid and wretched spawn fall into that same category as well. Even if one does find an alleged friend or accomplice in such a cruel place, that can only last for so long. That is the problem with these disgusting mortals. While powerful beings live on wrapped in the endless cloak of blessed eternity, everything that is mortal...comes to an end. It is the reason vengeance and fear and hate are born. It is all because everything comes to an end._

* * *

It was loud.

Oh so dreadfully loud.

But then again...

Offices were supposed to be loud, were they not?

Especially ones that belonged to rambunctious and overly curious FBI agents.

The noise was doing nothing to improve the horrific headache he had awoken with that morning. It had been enough to make him snap at his partner, leaving both of them in a state of shock and anger that was only present when two associates had somehow mixed themselves up in an argument.

The world began to waver and swim before his eyes, and his body began to tremble as ice dug its relentless claws deep into his flesh and bone. Teeth clenched together enough that a slight groan could be heard. He was only vaguely aware of those around him becoming motionless and eyeing him with concern and agitation, but he found that he could care less for their emotions and reactions at the moment.

A heavy weight settled on his shoulder, and it radiated heat that pierced through the colder exterior of his own. The pain-inducing murmur decreased in volume, leaving the pale man in a brief state of relief as the pounding in his head only slightly relinquished its hold.

 _The pounding of hundreds of hearts...the scent of the fresh blood being pumped throughout those flesh-covered and insignificant insects..._

A faint rustling revealed that his captor was clad in an expensive suit, and the faint scent of starch and water vapor lingered in the air around whoever was holding him.

 _Scraping claws against heated cobblestone...jagged scars in their wake..._

"Neal?"

 _Handler._

It was the voice of his handler.

 _Hands twisting with a sickening crunch...bones splintering and piercing through thin flesh..._

Forcing his suddenly unresponsive body to move, he forced the infuriating tremors to cease as crystal blue eyes shot open.

 _A deep and ragged moan escaped the beast as it was assaulted with cruel and merciless pain...oh so welcoming..._

Peter Burke stood there, worry etched clear into his worn face and his powerful jaw clenched. Behind him, about a dozen feet back, Diana and Jones stood watching, bodies relaxed but stained with the faintest hint of tension. They seemed to be ready for some sort of action, as if the confidential informant would attack them or some nonsense like that.

Neal made a mental note to confront them later on about it.

But right now, he had to take care of some other things.

 _Head twisting back._

 _Skin tearing...flesh peeling..._

 _Blood boiling..._

 _Bubbling._

 _Overflowing._

 _More..._

 _Hungry..._

"Yeah, Peter?"

The FBI agent narrowed his eyes, tilting his head ever so slightly. "You're shaking."

 _Trembling beast bathed in the blood of the prey..._

 _Crimson glare of ravenous flame..._

 _Claws and fangs tearing through once-thick and protective flesh..._

 _Oh, so delicious, dear flesh..._

He had intended to respond, but then the vertigo hit him like a tidal wave.

Clenching his teeth together once more, the slim man swayed on his feet, heat momentarily overwhelming him. The blood roared in his ears, drowning out most of the sound around him to a dull roar, but ever so faintly he could hear the concerned murmurs of those around him, the deep rumble belonging to his partner and the lighter and softer tones being the voice of Diana.

 _"Neal..."_

 ** _Master..._**

 _"Neal, what's wrong?"_

Hands were steadying him, powerful fingers clenching and righting him to prevent him from falling. The world was swimming before him, nothing but a nauseating maelstrom of colors and motions that made his head pound even more.

 ** _Master, we are waiting for you. Come, master, come to us..._**

 _"Talk to me."_

Talk? No, he did not want to _talk..._

He wanted to _feed..._

 _So, so hungry..._

 _I can't. I can't. I can't._

 _Feed._

Emotions were battling deep within him, fighting for dominance or the smallest fragment of control.

Rage. Pain. Horror. Lust.

 _Want...I want...but I cannot...I cannot._

 _Black heart of ice convulsing. Curling. Shaking._

 _Primal roar of lust and inescapable fury..._

Feed. _Feed. **Feed.**_

 _Control yourself!_

The warm hands tightened, sending involuntary stabs of pain throughout his cold body. No, they had to leave him alone...why would they not _leave him alone?_ They had to move, move and get out of his way...

Letting out an unsteady breath, the shivering con artist pushed against the person holding him, aware of his trembling hands.

Pale and full lips parted to allow the hoarse and cracked voice to be heard.

 _"Let...go..."_

Every being in the room froze. Darkness writhed and moaned, and rage boiled to a festering blister that was ready to explode and unleash its infection upon every thing living or inanimate around it.

Cold filled the voice of the blue-eyed man, and he glared at the broad chest of his partner before him.

Peter narrowed his eyes, concern and irritation filling the dark chocolate depths. "Neal..."

The con man arched his back, the violent tremors starting once again. "Get off of me, Peter. I can't..." Vision blurring once more, the slim man moaned as the heat rose deep within him once more, overwhelming him as his breathing became ragged and hoarse.

"Boss." Diana stepped forward, her gaze locked onto the shivering man. "Just let him go."

Peter seemed to want to retort, but one glance at the ill con artist beneath him snuffed the spark. Stepping back, he crossed his arms. "Go home, Neal. Get some rest, and then come back. I need you for this new case."

The pale man nodded, shakily righting himself. "Fine, fine."

 _Blood flowing..._

 _Screaming..._

 _Delicious._

 _Want. Need. Want. Need. Want, need, want, need!_

 _Need!_

They all watched as he stumbled out of the door and vanished down the hall.

* * *

A vicious growl tore from his throat as he threw himself against the wall. Violent tremors shook his lean body, and muscles were pulled taut as he pressed himself against the ragged brick.

He had been so, so close to snapping...

 _Tearing and shredding thin flesh..._

 _A cold and sadistic grin..._

Tearing himself from his wonderfully wandering thoughts, he dug his hands into the grimy mortar and scraggly brick and stone. He needed to breathe and relax...calm...down...

A delicious shudder ran through him, ice piercing bone and marrow to further lower his body temperature. Oh, yes.

With a heavy groan, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, drifting off into dark and demented fantasies...

 _Their screams rang in his hypersensitive ears even as his talons tore through blood-slicked flesh. It was oh so satisfying...the feel of the meaty skin sliding down his throat to land in his stomach...filling him completely..._

 _The axe lay beside him, and the shredded cloak curled around the small of his back._

 _Execution..._

 _His head glared at him through the dying light of the charred sun. Glazed eyes filled with hatred and bloodlust._

 _Similar to him. More than he cared to admit. Compared to a mere fleshy mortal..._

 _His nose twitched. Senses flared._

 _Territory. My territory._

Eyes snapping open, they locked with a curious woman standing at the entrance to the alleyway. She was asking if he was okay. He caught the faint scent of bleach and alcohol...ah. A nurse.

No.

Far from it.

"I...I don't think so. I can't...my legs..."

She was moving closer now, concern clear in her gaze.

He forced down his lust and channeled the hunger of the beast instead.

 _Fangs and talons tore through heated flesh, and he savored the overwhelmingly appeasing screams and futile pleas. Really, now. Who would ever come to save them?_

A cold smirk curled back pale lips.

The woman did not even have the chance to scream.

* * *

 **Well, I hope you liked! It isn't the longest start, I know, but there will be longer chapters in the future. R &R, pleaze!**

 _ **Some Author Notes:**_

 **1.) The super long quotes spread throughout this chapter and the others to come are something I came up with while watching _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion R2._ That show has a lot of memorable lines in it...so I received the inspiration for the quote from one of the episodes! :) "The human heart is the source of all power" is a quote from the amazing Lelouch vi Britannia (or Lelouch Lamperouge) himself! ****Oops. Sorry; I have been obsessing over this show for a _long_ time now...**

 **2.)** **I know there may be a bit of confusion, but everything will clear up eventually! This is a start, after all...**

 **3.) Check this out again in about a week or so. It will have a bit more added to this chapter.**

 **Hope that was everything! Please tell me what you think of this!**

 **Bye!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! Here is Chapter Two!**

 **Title: Ashes of Betrayal**

 **Rating: M**

 **Summary:** _This is my territory. It has always been, and it will never change. I have been excessively lenient while working with mortal powerhouses allowing their disgusting human stench to permeate the veil I work so hard to preserve. So why does this particular group, out of all the ones I have worked with, bother me so? They have been reckless enough to antagonize me...and they will not survive my wrath._

 **Warnings: Descriptions of Illnesses, Gore, Sadism, Masochism, Disturbing Thoughts and Images, Violence, Possible Schizophrenia**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Peter Burke woke with a start as his phone rang violently, too close to his ear for any form of comfort.

Glancing over at his wife, who merely sighed and turned over on her side, he groaned heavily and rolled over, taking the phone into his hand. "Hello?"

 _"Peter?"_ A hoarse, soft voice sounded, filled with a muted pain that was a bit too familiar.

Being careful not to disturb El, he sat up and ran a hand over his face. "Who is this and why are you calling me?"

A pained laugh sounded, husky and dry. " _Oh, come on, Peter. You've been asleep long?"_

"What—? Neal?" Rising to his feet, the FBI Agent walked silently out of the room, taking to sitting down on the couch. "What is it? Are you okay?"

There was a grunt as if the younger man was doing something strenuous or uncomfortable before his voice sounded again. " _Fine, Peter, I'm—ah—fine. Just can't...can't sleep, is all. Wanted someone to talk to."_

"Well, you sound horrible. Have you been recovering at all?" Deep brown eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Has Mozzie been letting you work? I swear if I get my hands around that guy's throat—"

 _"Relax, Peter. I've been doing nothing, just like you ordered."_ Neal sounded extraordinarily weary, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and the burden was becoming too much for him to bear. _"I'm not really in the mood to do anything, either. Hurts too much."_

Peter frowned, muscles rippling as he shifted in his seat. "Hurts too much? Have you been to the doctor? Could they figure out what was wrong?"

 _"Mmm-hmm."_ Burke could all but see that mischievous grin on the con man's pale face. _"Hurts too much, remember? I can—can barely talk to you right now."_ A heavy moan sent static crackling over the line, followed by deep silence.

"Neal?" Peter sat up straighter when there was no response. "Neal, what is it? What's wrong?"

There was another moment of noiselessness, but then a strangled cough sounded. _"S-Sorry, Peter. Moved the...wrong way."_

"I'm coming over." Peter stood, determination written across his aged face. "I'll be there in a moment."

 _"No, you don't have to do that. I'm—"_

"If you even think about saying you're fine I'll put you on medical leave for months." Once he was sure that there would be no protest, the agent nodded unconsciously and continued on, "Don't try to run. I'll catch you again."

 _"Yeah. Sure you will."_ He could not help but worry as the younger man's voice sounded even weaker; it seemed like he was dozing off or experiencing more pain than he had been earlier. _"See you soon, then."_

Peter went back into the master bedroom, where El was sitting up, concern written over her face.

"Hon? What's going on?"

The FBI Agent was already undressing and putting on casual clothes even as he spoke to his wife. "Sorry, hon, but I have to head out. Neal's sick, and he just called to say that he wants my company. I'll probably be with him for the rest of the night to make sure he doesn't get into any trouble."

El yawned and smiled softly, shaking her head. "That's fine. You go and make sure that he's alright."

"Thanks, hon." He planted a quick kiss on her cheek before turning and heading out of the room.

She was asleep before she even heard the car back out of the driveway.

* * *

 _Pain. Agony. Love. Lust. Fury. Grief. They were all emotions that tied together, all feelings that couldn't be felt without another. You couldn't feel agony without knowing pain first. Love would not welcome you if you did not lust after the object of your desires. Rage would not come if one never felt the heart-wrenching pull of despair. One could not help but to wonder...what exactly defines emotions? What defines the things that cause human beings to scream, to kick, to cry, to shout, to writhe in the depths of their heart's willpower? What causes humans to be humans? Everything feels emotions. A lioness mourning over her lost cub. A sparrow crying for their fallen friend. Both humans and animals possess intelligence, but what draws the line? What differentiates humans from the beasts that surround them daily?_

* * *

He grimaced as he hung up, throwing the phone onto the nightstand beside him and stretching with a stifled groan as he laid his head back down on the headrest of his bed.

Fire tore through his body, and he moaned and curled in on himself, clenching his eyes shut.

He was hungry again.

The craving was nearly unbearable, almost as bad as it had been all those years ago, during his time in Europe.

The Agent was coming over. Yes—he would be able to curb his hunger with him. Yes. He would be good enough.

His senses spiked, alarms raising as he turned slightly towards the door.

There was a knock on the door.

"Neal?"

A harsh growl tore through his aching throat. A pained grimace passed over full, pale, and icy lips. He shuddered, shaking his head repeatedly and making the wild raven tangle of his hair become even more mussed.

Not Peter.

Not Peter.

Not him.

 _It wasn't him._

 _It isn't him._

A dark chill passed through his long and lean body, digging sharp and venomous talons through the deceitfully thick and strong flesh. Crimson flashed, glazing over pale icy blue and gray.

"Neal?" There was another knock, this time, more urgent. "It's Sara. Mozzie told me you were here. Can I come in?"

The lithe man groaned softly, shivering roughly as he forced himself to sit up. "Just a minute." He convinced his legs to cooperate, and he moved down the hall towards the bathroom.

He ran a hand over his face, attempting to make himself look presentable and decent. Ice blue stained with a faint hint of crimson stared back at him, and he noticed with a grimace how pale and sickly he looked.

When his breath fogged the glass of the mirror, his tongue traced over the unsheathed points of his fangs.

 _Relax. Calm down._

Neal Caffrey rolled his shoulders with a faint cringe, plastering a slight rendition of his trademark grin on his face. He could not show his trademark smirk at the moment—not with his current predicament—but at least he had some sort of expression that was similar to what he had normally.

When he opened the door—after taking a few breaths that did little to ease the aching fire in his throat—the red-haired beauty that was Sara stood there, a faintly worried look on her slender, pale face. She was clad in a form-fitting forest green dress that complimented her fiery hair and matched her emerald eyes.

"Hey, Sara. How are you?" Internally, he cringed at how even his voice sounded. It was disgustingly nauseating how horrifically gentle he sounded around these pathetic mortals. Nevertheless, he was nothing but a gentleman, and he turned to let the woman enter.

She trailed in with the angelic grace that she had, and the red-haired woman stepped into the intricately decorated room. Her deep, intelligent gaze wandered about the room, taking in every object with the attention to detail that she was accustomed to having. After having surveyed everything to her level of satisfaction, Sara set her purse down on the couch behind her and turned to face the faintly grimacing pale man still lingering at the door.

Those bright eyes narrowed as the woman tilted her head, sending a cascade of crimson curls over her slim shoulders. "I'm fine, Neal." She frowned ever so slightly, forcing her full lips into a distorted scowl. "Are you? You look like hell, no offense."

Neal shrugged, forcing himself to ignore the gruesome and unrelenting pounding in the back of his head away. "Just fighting off a migraine, that's all." He grunted and recoiled suddenly, bringing a hand up to his head as he turned away to brace himself against the countertop.

"Caffrey?" She was moving closer, and at the slight tilt of her head he was exposed to a rush of her sweet, delicious scent.

He found that even though he was their ruler, even the hungriest of them—no matter their age or amount of experience—would resort to the most basic of tactics in order to acquire sustenance.

"Give me a moment." He was trembling now, hands clenched into fists as he fought the urge to unsheathe his fangs. Normally he was much more restrained, but he had not fed in weeks, nearly months. It was nowhere near how long he had gone without feeding before, but there were just do many temptations. The female doctor had merely been a sampler—a taste of what he was soon to receive.

"Neal?" Sara was continuing to approach him, and he shuddered even harder as he turned and forced himself to move away from her. She was oh so pretty—he could not find it in himself to harm her willingly, but he would if she kept moving closer.

At that moment, a knock sounded on the door, and that rumbling baritone voice rang through the door.

"Neal? It's Peter."

Sara glanced at the trembling man before turning and opening the door.

The well-built man frowned, tilting his head ever so slightly as he stared down at the red-haired woman. "Sara? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she countered, crossing her arms.

Peter's frown deepened ever so slightly. "Neal called me saying he wanted company or something along those lines." He peered in the door around the not-so-considerable bulk of the woman, eyes widening as they locked onto the trembling con man, who was close to being forced to his knees from whatever pain he was in. "Neal? What is it?" He slipped past Sara, heading straight for the younger man.

He frowned as he placed a hand on the pale man's forehead, bracing his body against his own as he swayed precariously. "You're burning up. Have you taken any medications?"

Neal let out a hoarse breath, shaking his head. His head turned, and his pale blue eyes locked with the emerald orbs of the woman.

Peter seemed to not notice or chose not to. "You need to. Do you not know how to take care of yourself?"

The con man laughed hoarsely, shuddering more violently. "Sara..." He grimaced and coughed harshly, eyes narrowing. "She doesn't have t-to—"

Peter frowned again and glanced at the woman, shrugging almost apologetically. "It'd probably be better if you leave. He'll only get worse if he worries about you."

Sara raised her hands, an easygoing smile crossing her face. "Say no more." She turned and grabbed her purse, heading out and standing in the hall as she glanced over her shoulder. "Call me if he gets any better or otherwise, okay?"

"I will." He watched as the woman left before turning to Neal. "Why did you invite her over when you knew you were ill?"

Neal gasped, slender arms wrapping around his middle as he trembled. "Didn't. Mozzie. Or...or something."

"Remind me to punch him when I see him again." Peter smirked lightly, a chuckle rumbling through his broad chest. Neal laughed softly, but when he groaned and doubled over to cough violently, Peter frowned and led the man to the couch.

"You need rest." The FBI agent gently helped the man sit down, watching with a concerned glint in his eyes as the blue-eyed man closed his eyes with a grimace.

Neal moaned, curling in on himself as he shut his eyes tightly. He shivered, his skin prickling and body shaking as the tremors reappeared.

"Here." Peter procured a blanket, placing it over the lithe man. He watched as the younger man let out an unsteady breath and wrapped the blanket tighter around his body. "Do you need anything else?"

Neal shook his head, grimacing as the movement seemed to cause him more pain. "'M fine." He seemed oblivious to the scowl that the older man gave as he shifted and pulled the blanket tighter over his body.

Peter sighed heavily and bent down so he was on one knee. With an almost hesitant aura surrounding his body, he slowly raised a hand and placed it on the younger man's shoulder, concerned at the heat that radiated from him. "You'll be okay, Neal."

"Mmph." The young man sighed heavily, voice muffled by the pillow covering his face.

Suddenly the con artist groaned, curling in on himself as he rocked on the couch. Startled, Peter made to help the younger man, but as he did so Neal turned his head and growled at him, a manic and disturbingly hungry light in his clear eyes.

"Neal." Peter raised his hands as if to caution the other male. He had never seen that look in his eyes before, and it was something that sent an unwanted chill down his spine. It was the look of a caged animal, wounded and frightened as their tormentor came to play with them some more.

The pale man bared his teeth in something like a snarl, his clear blue eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Stay away."

"I just want to help," Peter countered, keeping his motions small and his gaze free of emotion.

"Then shut up and leave me alone." Neal grimaced and placed a hand against his forehead, shuddering in some sort of phantom pain.

After a moment of silence, Neal's hoarse and shaky voice sounded.

"Come here."

Peter frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Neal, what—?"

"Now." The pale man fixed his ocean-blue stare on the larger male. "Please."

With a reluctant sigh, the older man moved closer, almost nose-to-nose with the con artist. "What do you want?"

Remaining eerily silent, slim hands rose and cupped the agent's face, icy fingertips running over smooth skin as he stared through bleary eyes.

Peter felt a chill go down his spine as Neal continued to stare at him, feeling more than seeing the darkness lacing through his motions as the con man leaned close. The agent forced himself to be still as Neal inhaled deeply, shuddering harshly.

The raven's breath hitched, and he pushed the larger man away, his eyes wide and his body trembling. "Peter...I...I didn't..." He glanced away, his breathing coming faster as he wrapped his arms tightly around his body.

Startled at the sudden terror in the man's voice, Peter spoke softly. "Neal, what were you doing?"

Neal groaned and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Peter. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for." The federal agent shook his head slowly, a faint smile curling up his lips. "You did nothing wrong."

Blue eyes dangerously bright, the lithe man began to rock once again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Peter felt his concern rise as heat radiated around the slim man. Rising to his feet, he moved quietly into the kitchen and filled a glass with water, setting it on a table nearby the delusional man.

He sunk into a chair in front of the trembling man, ready for a restless night.

* * *

 _"And thus I clothe my naked villainy_

 _With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ;_

 _And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."_

 _~William Shakespeare~_

* * *

"Caffrey, are you sure you're okay?"

The pale man let out a soft sigh as he turned to glare at Jones. "I told you before, I'm fine."

"That look in your eyes tells me you're not." Diana glanced at him through the rearview mirror, her chocolate eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Did you take anything for your headache?"

Neal groaned, resting his cheek on the cool glass of the window. "I don't like it. It makes me feel...like I'm not me."

 _Make them suffer, my king. Tear their measly bodies limb from limb and feast on their steaming internals._

"Sure, but that headache won't go away as quickly if you don't take any aspirin," Peter grumbled and twisted in his seat to stare at the con artist. "You were delusional with fever not even five days ago."

 _Would you dare doubt me? You, nothing but a powerless, mewling subordinate? Who do you think you are?_

"And that was five days ago, Peter," Neal muttered, shaking his head as his eyes glazed over. "You're not making anything better by putting information out like that."

Jones frowned at the con artist, crossing his arms. "Information? As far as I know, the fact that you were delusional is something we should all know in case it happens again."

"No one asked for your opinion," Neal hissed, narrowing his eyes in a cold glare. He winced suddenly and brought a hand to his head, his breathing becoming shaky.

 _Endless days and night have I been trapped in this pathetic world. Your opinion means nothing in my eyes._

"Damn it, Neal." Peter motioned to Jones with a wave of his hand. "Check him for a fever. I still don't think it's gone down like he said it did."

As Jones reached over to feel Caffrey's forehead, he was stopped by a cold, strong hand crushing his own. Neal glared at him through darkened eyes, his lip curled back in a snarl to expose his teeth.

"Don't touch me."

Jones stared back with wide eyes. "Caffrey, I didn't mean to—"

Suddenly Neal was lurching forward, and the car jerked slightly as he pinned the African Amerian man to the seat. "Don't. Touch. Me."

The car jerked, and Diana unlocked the doors and stepped out. "Boss, come out when you're done. I'll be inside."

"Jones, go on ahead. I'll take care of Neal." Peter waved a hand dismissively and turned to face the seething master forger.

"Uh, boss, I can't exactly—"

"Neal, let him go."

Neal glared at the agent before releasing his teammate, ignoring the way he scrambled out of the car.

"I don't want him touching me." Neal's eyes were glazed over, and his fingers dug into the leather seats in an effort to right himself as he swayed. His breathing was hoarse and unsteady as he trembled visibly. "I...I don't want anyone t-touching me."

Peter frowned, wanting to reach out but knowing it was a bad idea with Neal's current mental state. "Neal, he wasn't going to do anything to hurt you. He only wanted to—"

Neal's lip curled back to expose his teeth as he shook his head violently. "I told you everything was fine and you went ahead and—"

"Don't play the victim here. You were the one who insisted you were fine, but in case you didn't know, fine doesn't mean skipping out on the medication that's supposed to make you better." Peter glared at him, his voice hardening and his eyes narrow. "Why are you acting like this? Jones meant no harm."

Neal swallowed hard, sweat glistening on his pale skin. He turned away, moving his stare out of the window.

When Peter reached back to place a consoling hand on the con artist's arm, Neal jerked and pressed himself against the seat, putting as much space between them as he could.

"Don't touch me."

"Caffrey." Peter sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You need to come inside so we can debrief the rest of the team."

Neal scowled, hunching over himself in his seat. "Why? I'm not going anyway." His breathing calmed down somewhat as he fixed his clear blue gaze out of the window. "You know I can't go."

"That's because you're staying at the office and relaying messages from the agents in the field." The federal agent rose to his feet, climbing out of the car and opening Neal's door.

The raven-haired man let out a shaky breath as he rose to his feet, leaning against the vehicle. "I know." He grimaced and ran a hand over his throat, shutting his eyes briefly.

He flinched as a heavy hand rested on his shoulder.

"Come on." Peter motioned to the looming building behind them. "We've got to get going."

Neal nodded, pressing his lips together. "Right."

* * *

Diana watched from her desk as Caffrey and Peter entered the building, Peter urging the pale man on with an arm on his elbow.

Neal stumbled slightly as he went up the stairs to Burke's office, and she watched as Peter guided him and forced him to sit in a chair.

Narrowing her eyes, Diana rose to her feet.

"Boss."

Peter muttered to himself as he looked through a file in his hands, glancing up briefly. "What, Diana?"

"What's wrong with Caffrey? Why did you leave him in your office?"

"What?" Burke frowned as he stared down at the woman. "He's sick, Diana, and he's bordering on having a migraine worse than his previous one. That's reason enough to keep him in a secluded area."

"You couldn't leave him at his apartment instead? Because I have a feeling you'll have one of us watch over him."

Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Diana, I don't have time for this. Neal is better off here where multiple people can watch him and get him help if he needs it, and you know as well as I that he'd get into another world of trouble if he was left with Mozzie." He turned away and raised his voice. "Jones, head to the car and make sure everything we need is there. Diana, go with him."

She made to protest, but Burke narrowed his eyes in a cautionary glare. "This conversation is over, Diana. Go with Jones and get ready to leave."

* * *

 **There's Chapter Two. Once again, I apologize for the extremely long wait, but this story was put on hold when I started my anime binge-watching again. Review, please!**

 **Oh, and can anyone guess what's going on with Neal? (Check the summary for this story if you're lost...)**


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